


A Close Friend

by sapienti0sat



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Fantastic Beasts: The Crimes of Grindelwald
Genre: F/M, One Shot, Post-Canon, hypothetical situation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-30
Updated: 2018-09-30
Packaged: 2019-07-20 15:09:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16139834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapienti0sat/pseuds/sapienti0sat
Summary: Newt Scamander had only come back from New York when the news was delivered to him at dinner.There was an engagement to be had it appeared and Theseus, his own brother, seemed to have left that out in their last correspondence.





	A Close Friend

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally posted on my Tumblr account of the same name previously. It's set just after FBAWTFT, in a hypothetical dinner setting with the Scamanders. I woke up with this scene in my head, set between Theseus and Newt once Newt was back in London. This is going on the basis that Newt had no idea that Theseus had proposed to Leta and she had accepted, but rather the fact that Newt had known for years that Leta’s romantic interests were never to him. This background brings forth both feelings old and new. I hope you enjoy.
> 
> A/N: I never realised this until I re-watched FBAWTFT yesterday that Tina only gave Queenie the case when they both jumped off Squire’s yet Newt gave Tina both his small book (most likely his manuscript) and the case. This meant that Tina at some point would’ve personally given over the book before he departed on the boat *SQUEEEEE*

“Newton…”

“Theseus, just—” Newt was staring at his shoes, expression between shock and blinking. 

The fireplace added golden accents to their brown hair, the same shade but different in every way. As Theseus looked on at Newt after a year, he saw the slightest differences in him that only family could. Newt’s steps were a bit lighter, his already freckled skin more freckled than it was previously. Those familiar multifaceted blue eyes that they shared had glinted and sparkled when Newt spoke about his adventure abroad, with more animated fashion then others would see him outside their family home. Their mother, bless her, had been excited and worried but put on a great front. Yet Theseus had already told her of this announcement and though she was happy for him, Theseus could see in those loving eyes a concern. His little brother now sound adventurer had come home after a catastrophe in New York, breaking the Statute of Secrecy at the same time had gained praise from the enigmatic President Seraphina Picquery for saving the entire city. Newt had had enough to deal with over the course of three days on top of the excitement of finishing that beloved manuscript. The last thing their mother wanted was something that would hurt him. Yet here Theseus was, hurting his little brother. 

“You were so close when you were younger, she wanted me to tell you in person and not correspondence.” Theseus continued though that was not entirely truthful. The truth of the matter was, Newt would’ve been more hurt if Theseus had kept it a secret for longer than necessary. He knew his brother. Newt would rather face the truth no matter how painful, head on rather than find out that others were lying. Lying had caused him more grief in the past and it seemed that his philosophy of ‘worrying makes you suffer twice’ was something now ingrained into Newt’s very character.

The air was tense. They both held glasses of whiskey than Theseus had brought from his place, poured just for this moment yet none of them drank it. Instead, it sat in their glasses untouched, mirroring the various movements of the embers in the fire. 

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Theseus.” Newt managed to speak but his voice was hollow, quiet, and lost that Theseus wanted to slap himself three times over for being the cause. It was a war in his chest between happiness at Leta’s answer and the pain of looking at his brother as he was now.

“I’m asking for your understanding. I’m asking… I’m asking for you to be there for me.”

“You, of all people… why?” Theseus knew he wasn’t asking about the engagement. Newt was asking about the years at Hogwarts that he never experienced, those years that Leta had come to Theseus, at first asking about Newt then later, simply talking. He was asking how and where and why the line between ‘my little brother’s best friend’ had blurred to simply ‘Leta Lestrange’ and then just ‘Leta’. He was asking about something that Theseus himself couldn’t fully form into words. 

“I just know I love her. I just… I can’t say.” 

Newt couldn’t hide his flinch from Theseus. Then again, his little brother never could. His face was honest, never one for deceit. When their mother found him in places he was not supposed to be, Newt would always admit his guilt. This did not make him a saint but when he could, Newt tried to be genuine and without shades. The only time Newt had outwardly lied, it had him expelled from the very school he loved. 

“Please,” Theseus whispered. Newt looked down at his glass of whiskey, then threw it back without the slightest appearance of discomfort for the burning sensation. Theseus couldn’t say he would take those moments back, he couldn’t say he would change it all. Because if he did he would be lying and if that made him a bad person, he had come to terms with that. He had no words.

Theseus could see Leta’s face in his mind right now. She would smile at him and laugh, a mischievous glint in her dark eyes. The great Theseus Scamander with nothing to say? Why, the world has gone mad.

“I don’t know what Leta’s like anymore,” it sounded almost as if Newt was repeating himself, like he had said those words before and recently for there was a wry twist to his lips. His eyes flickered to Theseus then back down to his feet. It was something he always did, when he was unsure. Theseus took a sip of his whiskey and endured the burning in his throat.

Theseus didn’t want to say that Newt had had time. He had had almost ten years of time. Theseus didn’t say that despite Newt’s current pain, he could see that something had changed in his eyes. A gentleness when he spoke about New York at the dinner table that was surprising as it was curious. How his hand went into his inner coat pockets when he spoke, checking for that small book he kept his notes and lingered. His eyes turned reflective, his fingers brushing over the surface. Whatever his brother had left out on his raucous rendezvous in New York, he did not say. But if Theseus had to guess, the person had been very influential in the smallest amount of time.  
But in this moment, the answer eluded both the Scamanders. As they stood in their drawing room, feeling the heat not only from the hearth but in their chests, they said not another word. 

Newt gave no answer. 

Theseus asked no more. 

There was just silence.


End file.
